The Tale of Val Thothraq: A Skyrim Fan Fiction
by Colonel Zultan
Summary: First story, feedback is much appreciated


p style="margin-bottom: .11in; line-height: 108%;"Where to start? Before the incident at Helegen my life was little more than simply wandering from town to town searching for work. I had experience in many fields, including magic and combat, but most imperials are uneasy about hiring Argonians. My family had long since scattered or died, so I had no one to fall back on except a twin who had chosen the same lifestyle as me. Demilovius, as my brother named himself, always had an aptitude for magika. He was a genius when it came to illusion and conjuration spells. We were both trained in the art by our magistrate's court wizard up until our parents died when we were both 17. It hit him especially hard. One day he asked about the art of necromancy, something I always thought was a taboo. Our instructor said that it was indeed frowned upon by many but not strictly illegal as far as the Empire was concerned. Soon after that he left in search of a college that taught necromancy freely./p  
p style="text-indent: .5in; margin-bottom: .11in; line-height: 108%;"I was never really sure why he left like he did, I think that maybe deep down he wanted to bring our parents back. Demilovius was always the good student and the favorite child. My mother simply adorded him growing up, but our parents were conservatives with little love of the Empire and magika for that matter. Our father was an imperial soldier before meeting our mother and he taught both of us how to fight up until his death. So my brother was not the helpless paige that I make him sound. He got me out of plenty of scrapes growing up but I got him out of plenty more. The Imperials, Nords, Redguard in our city were very discriminant of foreign races; Khajiet, Dunmer, Argonians, and especially Thalmor/Altmer. The other children always picked on us. I blame them for the hate that he developed for the Empire. I can't say I blame him./p  
p style="text-indent: .5in; margin-bottom: .11in; line-height: 108%;"I tried to find work around town after my brother left in order to try and keep the home I grew up with. I was not successful due to the entrenched racism of my town. After about four months of no work, the court's Master of Coin approached me for the home taxes I owed (which I didn't have). "Val, you're so behind on your taxes that you might be better off just selling the house. You sell a house like yours, I think you're bound to get a fair amount. Even for a lizard like yourself. So I'm going to offer you 5,600 coin right here, right now. What do you say?" He raised an eyebrow and smirked through his blond beard. I looked at him with contempt because I knew he was cheating me. My father was given this house in honor of his service to the Empire. It was easily worth 3,000 more than he was offering. I sighed passive aggressively, "Fine, you have a deal. At least give me a fortnight to gather my things."/p  
p style="text-indent: .5in; margin-bottom: .11in; line-height: 108%;""Very well," he said, "hand this letter to the receptionists at the vault in the palace and they'll get you your coin." He handed a parchment envelope sealed with the magistrate's symbol on it. The way he smiled after we shook hands made it seem like he accomplished his goal. The only person who wasn't prejudice towards me was the court wizard./p  
p style="text-indent: .5in; margin-bottom: .11in; line-height: 108%;"I had heard that there was work to be had up in the region of Skyrim from some Khajiet traders who were going that way. Those cats never lie when business is involved and they even offered me a decent wage as an escort. They gave me 1,500 coin upfront, which bought me a sword, a bow, and about three dozen arrows for the journey. The armor I had forged a year ago in my home town was still with me and had saved my life from many a bandit, so I had a little coin left over from my hiring bonus. The cats also promised 500 at the midpoint of the journey and finally 1,000 at the end. Usually these desert dwellers don't have that amount of coin with them, so I was more than a little suspicious when they offered me the job; but not enough for me to refuse the position. They originally offered 1,000 upfront but when I inquired about the cargo they raised my bonus to 1,500. Presumably to silence any further questions from this stranger they were hiring to protect them; and I didn't argue./p  
p style="margin-bottom: .11in; line-height: 108%;"We set off the next afternoon once the local markets closed for the day. They offered me a horse, but I explained that I was more comfortable walking alongside the wagons. For one, the horse they offered didn't seem to like Argonians from the way it snorted and pawed at the ground around me. Secondly, should we fall under attack, it would be easier for me to spring into action from on foot. However, horseback is good for archery; clearer line of sight. Besides, I'm no stranger to hiking long distances./p  
p style="margin-bottom: .11in; line-height: 108%;"I'm summarizing these events because they really aren't that important in the grand scheme of my life. Escorting these cats was just another job; another source for coin which I would blow on drink and the services of a talented wench. I was always focused on getting through the next day, finding work, and keeping an ear trained for any gossip that might lead to my brother./p  
p style="margin-bottom: .11in; line-height: 108%;"The characters that made up this caravan were very interesting to say the least. None formally introduced themselves, but I had overheard a couple of names. The leader of the group was named Hajem; he was a tiger-skinned man with a gold ring pierced through his left ear and piece missing from his right ear. The tear marks matched that of those an arrow would have caused. Seems the orange bloke had a close call at some point. While it was clear to me that most of the caravan was high on skooma, no matter how much they tried to hide it, Hajem had a bag of brown and orange leaves he would chew on periodically. He offered one to me once after we had set off. My jaws are not accustomed to leafy items, so my pointed teeth made what work they could of this substance. It was foul tasting and noxious. He laughed after I had swallowed the lot of it./p  
p style="margin-bottom: .11in; line-height: 100%;""You are not supposed to swallow the leaves. Only the juices," he spat his leaf out onto the road, "the leaves will make you sick. The effect is too strong in their veins." He folded another one into his whiskered mouth then shouted to one of the wagon drivers in their native Elsweyr language. "Haz russhi al mehq!" The driver nodded, passed the horse's reins to his left hand, then turned in his seat and reached into a trunk. He then produced three black, fox-pelt, scarves one he wrapped around his own neck and the others he tossed to Hajem and I. Hajem wrapped his tightly around his upper chest and wound it around his neck until it was tight everywhere else but lose around his mouth./p  
p style="margin-bottom: .11in; line-height: 100%;""This one does not enjoy chilled weather. We Khajiet are desert people by nature. You lizards must hate it even more than we; with your chilled blood and all." He smirked at the crack he had just made at my expense. I was used to worse, so I smiled back./p  
p style="margin-bottom: .11in; line-height: 100%;""Winters were hard when I was a lad, but not having known the warm-damp of Black Marsh, I adjusted," I said while donning my scarf, "cold doesn't bother me as much as it did my brother. He would get in trouble for trying to conjuror small fires under his bed just so he could be warmer. He nearly burned down our house when we were twelve." I could see he was beginning to grow uncomfortable with how personal our conversation was becoming. They were my clients, not my friends. "I apologize for my rambling."/p  
p style="margin-bottom: .11in; line-height: 100%;"He nodded with a sympathetic gesture, "Do not worry," he said, "the leaves will do that to sometimes. They losen the tongue as well as the blood." It was right then I realized what he had meant by "losened blood". My strides became more asymmetrical and the horizon before me became somewhat slanted every time my boots impacted the ground. I turned around to stagger my way into the back of the nearest wagon where I could ride out this high. I could hear Hajem laughing as I climbed into the back. The entire wagon seemed to spin around me as I tried to find a stable spot to lay down so as to not lose my previous meal all over everything. I closed my eyes and the next thing I knew the moons where out with a lite breeze ruffling the canvas covers of the wagons. There was a fire lit, but the watchman had already passed out. I looked up at the moons and judging by Luna and Larnis's positions I guessed it was about three in the morning./p  
p style="margin-bottom: .11in; line-height: 100%;"I untied my sword and bow from the second wagon and I made my way over to the fire. The fire runes on my bow hissed as I walked with it in my hand. The cat was passed out with a skooma bottle in his hand. I shook him awake which scared him deeply because he moved to strike me with his empty bottle before realizing who I was. He hastily hide the thing and went to his bedroll. I sat down and relit the fire with a concentrated spell from my hand. The small beam of heat that I spawned from my palm turned the wispy pile of embers back into a cheerful blaze, provided with a few more logs. I readied an arrow into my bow's string. The runes on my bow hissed and pulsed with a bright red light as the string fitted itself into the back of the arrow. I sat up straighter trying to find a more comfortable position in which to spend the next few hours./p  
p style="margin-bottom: .11in; line-height: 100%;" /p  
p style="margin-bottom: .11in; line-height: 100%;"strongemAuthor's note: Look forward to more chapters (still new to this site. Feedback is much desired)./em/strong/p 


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